


anywhere, i would have followed you

by DefineNormal



Series: all the small things [4]
Category: Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears (2020), Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 100 word drabbles, F/M, Movie Spoilers, dueling POV, my two idiot babies, so much damn UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefineNormal/pseuds/DefineNormal
Summary: Part 4, now with alternating POVs. Crypt of Tears spoilers but not, like, plot or anything.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Series: all the small things [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747324
Comments: 87
Kudos: 143





	1. jack! / pay my respects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mercurial meeting at a memorial is melancholy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The format is changing a little bit. Each chapter is 200 words - 100 each for Phryne and Jack.

She is only just landed, her feet newly and firmly planted on terra firma. 

She greets friends and family, genuinely glad to be back (but not home, yet).

And then...Jack.

It’s as if the solid earth beneath her has given way and she’s tumbling, scrabbling for balance.

 _Jack_.

His anger is so palpable she can almost touch it, press against it, push it (and him) away. His vehemence rocks her back onto the defensive.

Whatever reunion she has imagined (and she has imagined _many_ ) it’s not this.

It’s not Jack Robinson walking away. It’s certainly not letting him go.

For all the times he’s thought he’s seen her since that horrible night six weeks ago, he cannot fully convince himself she stands before him.

Whole. Unharmed. Alive. Smiling. 

_Smiling_.

At some point be it now or in the future, she _will_ be just a fevered imagining from a heart too broken to accept the loss. 

It is better, then, to go.

He hears the hurt and confusion and defensive anger in her words. He knows she’s following him, jagged steps, doing something she swore she’d never do.

 _Come after me_ , he thinks bitterly. 

This time, Phryne, it’s your turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is incredibly self-indulgent. I dismantled this movie and wrung every second of Phrack out of it. You're welcome? LMAO


	2. are you awake? / no

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne needs him.

It’s not at all difficult to find him, considering he told Eleanor and Lofty exactly where he would be staying. 

If he truly didn’t want to see her, he would have changed his accommodations to ensure she didn’t pop up unannounced.

She’s a detective, after all.

She doesn’t exactly rehearse what she’s going to say, but she doesn’t leave it one hundred percent to chance, either. 

She hopes he’ll open the door for her - it is always easier to charm him when she can look into his eyes. 

Even if those eyes have their defenses fortified against her.

She whispers.

“I need you.”

For half a beat, his heart swells. 

“For a midnight meeting with a stranger at All Saints Church in Soho.”

Of course she doesn’t  _ need _ him, not in that way. Not in any way, really, besides a stalwart sidekick to hold her bag and cloche.

He knows better than to open the door for her. The hour, the privacy, his loneliness... it would be a disaster. He remembers well the press of her body and lips. Even moreso, he recalls the thrill of chasing her quick mind, of working with her.

When she leaves, he inevitably follows.


	3. jack take this gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne cops a feel in a dangerous situation?! Well I never.

In spite of the danger, or perhaps because of it, she’s thrilled he’s by her side. She’s fully prepared to unravel this mystery alone, but it is far more than relief that causes the clog in her throat or the suspicious burn behind her eyes.

There’s no time, though, and she’s crouched beside him pressing her pistol into his hands.

It is as though the intervening months simply vanished, and they are right where they belong.

Together.

Jack moves to slip away and she cannot help herself. She gives in to the need and curls her arm around his back. 

* * *

Her touch is a firebrand across his back, her beloved gold pistol a cool weight in his hands.

He might have an uncharitable thought or two about her penchant for finding trouble, but there’s no real heat behind it.

No, the heat is all focused where their bodies meet, her hand sliding across his shoulder as she gets up to sneak away.

He’s still so angry. He’s still so hurt.

He’s also so damn thankful that she’s safe.

They are perfectly in sync once more as she returns to the wounded man and he chases a shadow into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one cap for 2 drabbles. but it's an important cap.


	4. i'm very sorry i'm not dead / can you feel that?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming to terms on the bridge.

She follows after Jack,  _ again _ , furious with herself over how much time and effort she is expending. It’s not like her to pursue those who don’t wish it, but she finds herself completely unable to watch him walk away.

Her frustration makes her skin tingle and suddenly she’s shouting after him. She’s more hurt than angry - that he would so quickly bolt from her when there was a mystery to be solved.

(Several mysteries, but the one of the heart appears to be unsolvable.)

He stalks back to her, looms into her space.

She allows herself a moment of satisfaction.

* * *

  
  


She is an incalculable force he cannot escape, try as he might.

He’s angry and heartsick and frustrated that he cannot seem to keep walking away. That his feet betray him. That his  _ heart _ betrays him. 

She presses the necklace to his skin and perhaps it is still cool to the touch. He doesn’t know. Instead his eyes flutter closed, a futile effort to guard himself.

He can’t allow himself to fall into those eyes and the mysteries she’s offering. 

It’s only a matter of time before he wrecks on the rocks of her, and drowns under the crashing waves.


	5. thank god / or you could thank me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well done, professor. WELL DONE.

The thrill of the chase dumps adrenaline into her system. When the mysterious man evaporates into the mist she cannot comprehend what has happened.

It is Jack’s shout, tinged in fear, that brings her back. He’s glorious in the rain, soaked to the skin, eyes wild with barely tamped down worry for her. 

When he draws out the pendant her heart leaps.

“Oh thank god,” She cradles the mysterious pendant in her palm.

“Or you could thank me,” More than the words, it’s the tone. The return of teasing banter. She cannot stop the smile that stretches over her face.

* * *

His lips turn up, unbidden, to match hers. She’s glorious in the rain, still winded from her sprint, but flush-cheeked and filled with the thrill of the chase.

He’s overrun with temptation - to brush the water from her cheeks, to tuck errant strands behind her ears, to curl his fingers against her skull and drag her to his chest.

He wants to kiss away the time, the distance, the fear. To hold in his hands one more time the furious heat of her, to tempt that dangerous spark.

“I put out the fire,” the professor yells. It’ll have to wait.

  
  



	6. for me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all gifts are wrapped.

When Jack emerges from the car, her heart skips a beat.

In that suspended moment, she thinks of how different their reunion might have been. Had he been able to come after her, not to bury her but to…

He doesn’t try to swallow the grin when he finds her waiting for him and she’s dazzled by the lightness in his features and the lovely wrapped package in his hands.

“For me?” She asks, but she doesn’t really mean the gift. His presence, his joy, his partnership...they are not just some old thing he picked up.

They are everything. 

* * *

For a woman of such discerning taste, Phryne is remarkably easy to please. She maintains a marvelous sense of wonder, even in the face of so many harsh realities. 

He wouldn’t call her a dreamer, for she is truly far too pragmatic, but he does respect her ability to entertain outrageous possibilities.

She stands beside him and lifts the astrolabe to the sky. The lightly powdered scent of her is something he’d never thought to experience again. He wants to bury his face in the curve of her neck.

Her gentle smile tells him she wouldn’t mind if he did.


	7. just smile and nod / is this your idea of sweet nothings?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now...they dance.

They fall back into rhythm together easily. They are a pair of magpies and the shimmer of a mystery is a treasure too brilliant to be ignored. 

They drift to a table of refreshments and Phryne absent-mindedly grabs a handful of something she can’t immediately identify. She doesn’t question herself as she presses a bite to Jack’s lips, too preoccupied to examine how easily he accepts her offering.

For all their bluster and distance, the well-defined habits of years of friendship rise to greet them. He, stoic and composed. She, plying him with food and drink and dance. Like always.

* * *

It is heaven to dance with her.

It is bliss to listen to her mind zip and jump through the complexities of the current case. This, he thinks, is their love language. The very foundation of their simmering romance. He would not find comfort in grand declarations, finds he needs only this. A meeting of their complementary minds.

Jokingly, he calls her words sweet-nothings but it is perhaps the most honest characterization of their banter.

They’ve seduced one another with puzzles, clues and cases. Solving this mystery with her is, perhaps, the most potent form of foreplay in their arsenal.


	8. what if you don't come back?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying in tandem - finally?

“What if you don’t come back?”

The words freeze her in place and she turns to face him fully.

He seems to recall they have an audience but he doesn’t back down, just turns his hat in his hands.

She wants him with her more than anything, but the plane can only carry two. She hopes he can see the regret - and firm determination - in her gaze.

She allows herself a moment to wonder if she will always be flying away from Jack. 

She will not allow herself to wonder how many times he can be counted on to follow.

* * *

She’s leaving. Again.

He will not let her slip away from him without a fight. He watched her fly away once. Even with the promise of her return, he’d felt his heart break with everything left unsaid and undone.

He is not about to make that mistake a second time. If she is bound and determined to save the world once more, she’ll do it knowing what is in his heart. Whatever pride had bound his declarations before, it is decimated with the threat of losing her.

He will follow her anywhere. London, Palestine...straight to hell if she asked.


	9. game's up abdul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seducing a camelier

For the second time in a handful of days, Phryne hands Jack her gun. He takes it without question, prepared to be backup for whatever she’s up to.

It’s terribly embarrassing that Abdul mistakes her frisking for amorous intentions. She feels she was more than plain in her obvious distrust. The camelier rolls her beneath him and she has no choice but to half-heartedly play along, hoping his own ardor will mask her lack thereof.

His lips attach themselves to the tendon in her neck and she uses his distraction to motion to Jack.

Jack, at least, gets the message.

* * *

Jack sighs and allows himself a grimace.

It’s as though every man on multiple continents will get their chance to kiss Phryne Fisher, except for him.

Her panicked look, at least, tells him she was not counting on becoming the object of Abdul’s misplaced affections. So he is only mildly irritated to watch as the beloved bane of his existence tussles with a randy camelier.

Abdul curls his head to Phryne’s throat (lucky bastard) and she waves towards the pistol tucked in Abdul’s waistband. 

When the man stands with Phryne’s lipstick smearing his face, Jack contemplates just shooting him anyway.


	10. if i need your help i'll ask for it / i won't hold my breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sand Convo Part 1

It is the half-hearted accusation that she purposely seduced Abdul that stings the most. Even if he hadn’t meant it, he said it. 

For so long, Jack seemed to not only accept but appreciate her independence. And yet he seems to no longer respect her judgement or her ability and she bristles at the insinuation that she needs his help. 

It’s been years since she allowed herself to be so quick to anger, but Jack is becoming very good at locating her sore spots.

She steps into his personal space and juts out her chin. Daring him to say more.

* * *

How many times will he have to prove himself worthy of her confidence? They’re _ partners _ and while he doesn’t expect her to tell him every thought that crosses her mind, he does expect to have some say in matters that directly affect him.

But of course, she draws the mantle of personal freedom and it’s more weapon than defense, anymore.

He has no desire -  _ none _ \- to clip her wings. He only wishes she wasn’t so goddamn terrified of him, and what his presence meant.

He crossed half the world for her and in spite of everything, he’d do it again.


	11. jack... / ...it's quicksand!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sand convo, Part 2

She could blame the flush blooming over her skin on the sun, the heat of the afternoon. But it’s frustration that engulfs her as she watches Jack slog away.

She will not go after him. 

She will not deign to explain herself to him.

She will not be engulfed by the unnameable fear that drowns her at the thought of him leaving for good. 

In spite of herself, she steps forward and it’s like stepping out over water. She’s falling. She’s trapped. Sinking further, slowly. Her hoarse cry chases him across the dunes

“Jack, I need your help! It’s quicksand!”

* * *

“Jack, I need your help!”

He snorts at the words, even as his spine stiffens at her tone. 

“It’s quicksand.”

He turns at that and sees her half buried in sand.

He expects a dump of fear but it’s anger that spurs him forward. Of all the stupid ways he’s almost lost her - her pride, his fear, her bloody father’s interference, RAAF pilots, the Camorra, England… it is not going to be a random patch of sand that ends it all.

He hasn’t chased her all over creation to have her slip through his fingers. 

Not this time. Not _ever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If EC can play fast and loose with the reality of quicksand, so can I.


	12. hold on / but thank you for the explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sand convo, part 3

“What stupid ways?” She asks nonsensically, as if now is the time for that particular conversation.

But it’s ire that’s keeping her head above the onslaught as she waits for Jack to disrobe instead of using the perfectly serviceable umbrella directly beside him.

She’s irritated that she cannot even fully appreciate the shift of muscle under (finally!) bared skin as he strains to pull her to safety.

It is the feeling of his chest beneath her cheek, panting from exertion and fear, that undoes her. In spite of their emotional distance, it is unexpectedly intimate. 

She tells him the truth. 

* * *

Jack isn’t sure what burns more. The sand at his back, Phryne at his front, or the guilt her confession brings. Of all the explanations he thought she’d offer, saving a man from certain death had not ranked in the top five. 

But of course, it makes perfect sense.

Her fingers dig into his biceps and he wets his lips, his dry throat not the work of the desert but of Phryne Fisher draped across him.

They stare at one another, a charged silence filled with what he now recognizes as mutual want.

But first they must save the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look. This could have easily had a few more chapters devoted to it. Let's all just be thankful I stopped myself eventually.


	13. no, phryne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A catastrophic cave-in at the crypt.

Even with all the chaos, the deafening rumble of the collapsing crypt, the single gunshot is loud. Jonathan, dear sweet Jonathan…

She turns as if to follow the sound, heedless of the danger. Jack catches her, his arms around her middle, and lifts her backwards to safety. She struggles briefly before sagging into his embrace, realizing the futility of rushing headlong into disaster. 

They tumble to the ground together, Jack’s arm braced across her vulnerable neck. 

The overwhelming noise stops, and their harsh breathing fills what’s left of the crypt.

Jack’s arm remains, protecting her. Steadying her. Simply holding her.

* * *

He doesn’t think she has a death wish persay, but she is frighteningly unaware of her frailties. He is too, sometimes. But with the literal world falling down around their ears, there is no choice but to wrap his arms around her and half carry her to safety.

She resists only for a moment and he uses his body to shield her from the debris.

They stay crouched together until the dust settles and the earth-splitting rumbling ends.

The crack of a pistol ricochets around them.

“Jonathan…” She breaths and the tears begin to fall.

Later, they emerge into sunlight.


	14. there was an enormous tarantula / got it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arachnophobia

She bathes as best she can with a pitcher of water and herbal scented soap. 

She dresses with care, pulling from her case the most luxurious nightgown she brought. Purchased with...well...not exactly _this_ in mind. But him.

She toys with the notion of going to him but the small, petty part of her believes it’s time for _him_ to come to _her_.

The pistol is in her hand before she even truly recognizes what she’s doing and she hopes that the camels are tied safely where they left them.

Nervous fluttering in her stomach, she pulls the trigger.

* * *

He finds her standing on her bed, breath heaving as she points out the tent door with her gun. He truly wonders if there was any such arachnid, or if she was merely summoning him.

And he, the tame beast, answered her call readily.

A moot point, he decides. He would always run to her. 

So he steps out into the starry night and aims at the sky. 

This time, the crack of gunfire is the starter pistol. Wherever they are going, he thinks, it starts tonight. 

Or it ends. Either way, he will finally know. And so will she.


	15. it's my only fear / i don't think that's true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of fears, founded and unfounded.

He hands her down gently from the bed and doesn’t release her, but draws her nearer.

She is breathing hard, quivering anticipation coursing through her.

She watches him watching her lips, his adam’s apple bobbing in time with his nervous swallows.

“It’s my only fear,” She says, because it’s true. She’s not really afraid. Not of Jack. 

Not even of herself, anymore.

She’s faced a world without him and found it wanting. Not ended, perhaps. Not devastating. But not...right, either. 

His eyes scan over her again and his thumb twitches nervously against her knuckles.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

* * *

“I don’t think that’s true.” He says, because he’s heard her. A thousand times and in a thousand ways. She will not be held down, she will not commit herself to anyone. 

He wants her to know he does not place expectations on her or himself.

That he has discovered he wants to be a choice she makes, not a commitment she must honor.

That loving her, having her without restriction, is a choice  _ he’s _ made. 

Freely. 

Perhaps he would once again curse knowing her, and the pain that loving her would inevitably bring.

But, he thinks, she’s worth it.


	16. i just need your heart / for a detective you don't notice much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vows.

“I just need your heart. Because God knows, you’ve got mine.”

Momentary fear catches her throat and stuttering realization dawns.

He doesn’t know, she realizes.

Hasn’t seen.

She, feeling obviously and atrociously lovelorn, had unwittingly withheld from him the most important piece of information. Were he not so close and looking at her with eyes hot with desire, she might be engulfed with guilt.

Every moment she chased after him, ever flare of anger she could not quite contain. 

The desperation with which she pursued him across London.

“Oh Jack,” she breathes. “I gave you that a long time ago.”

* * *

“I gave you that a long time ago.”

The words don’t register at first. But the sly smile does. 

She leans closer. 

“For a detective, you don’t notice much.”

He should be offended, he knows. Or at least ruffled. But the joy in his chest has grown to grip his throat and he’s not really breathing as she hovers closer.

Her fingers, nimble and warm against his chest, pin him in place and simultaneously draw him forward.

He watches her until she blurs in front of him, all watercolor loveliness and spicy scent.

He meets her halfway.

Their lips touch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am of the opinion that Phryne felt as though she'd be obviously (and embarrassingly) in love with Jack for a while and she comes to the realization that OMG - he didn't _know_ she was in love with him? She really thought she was being Very Obvious and Jack's still going "OK, but do you like me or do you _like like_ me?" Because they're goddamn nerds.


	17. there wasn't really a tarantula / good because i didn't really shoot one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hot damn, gertie.

They’ve kissed before.

But it’s never - _ever_ \- been like this. Even when it was a desperate goodbye and a shaky promise of return.

She is not taken off-guard, this time. And she intends to savor every moment.

It’s chaste, but at the same time, it’s _so very not_.

The desert air is cool against her heated skin and she lasts less than a few seconds before her hands are reaching for his braces, drawing them slowly over his shoulders.

He looks completely untethered and her stomach quivers.

“By the way,” she breathes. Another gifted confession. “There wasn’t really a tarantula.”

“Good,” He says, surprised he can speak at all. The touch of Phryne’s tongue has reduced him to mere sensation and he expected all that would come out of his mouth was a ragged groan. 

He pulls his arms out of his braces and his hands come to rest on the soft curve of her hips. “Because I didn’t really shoot one.”

Her answering smile and breathy laughter draws his own mouth into a grin, and he is suddenly and foolishly happy.

Her fingers are tangled in his buttons and she turns her chin up for another kiss.

He obliges.


	18. iris out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fade to black.

She kisses him leisurely, despite the desperation clawing at the base of her spine.

She wants to mark each memory- the texture of his lips, the slip of his tongue, the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. 

In happiness he is younger, features instantly softened with affection and desire.

She’s seen glimpses of this Jack before, in stray moments before he guarded himself from her.

Now, he offers himself fully, pressing into her hands and mouth, taking final possession of everything she has offered.

In the middle of the desert, thousands of miles from where they started...she’s home.

* * *

He is a man parched and Phryne is the cool water that will finally slake his thirst. 

He holds her tentatively at first, fighting the urge to mark his desire on her skin.

But she is stronger than she appears and when she pushes his shirt off with a wordless growl, he ceases with delicacy.

Her squeal of surprise ends in breathy giggles and his matching laughter is loud and lusty, a sound foreign to both of them.

They pause and let the moment breathe.

Then she curls her palm around his neck and draws him down, down, down.

_ Finally _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHAT. THEY FINALLY HAD THE SEX. did the deed. the wrong-sided business. After years (and years and years and years) we finally got to this place where the canoodling is canon. 
> 
> 10 years from now when some new fan finds MFMM on a streaming service they'll get through a few episodes and, unable to stand it, they will ask google "Google, do Phryne and Jack get together?'
> 
> And Google will say "YOURE DAMN RIGHT THEY DO. AND THEN THEY HAVE SEX."


	19. yalla, fatima. yalla.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after.

They spend several days in the desert.

It is an oasis out of time and space, allowing them the luxury of starting over. They lounge, they laugh, they love.

Every evening, after the blistering sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the sand is still warm from the day, they stargaze.

It is an indulgence and a flight of fancy neither of them are particularly prone to. But the stars are close enough to touch, the night both intimate and vast. Phryne tucks herself beneath Jack’s chin and they sway together for minutes or maybe hours.

On their last night, Jack builds a fire and Phryne is suitably impressed. In a fit of whimsy he poses beside the flames, chest puffed out, arms akimbo. 

Their laughter fills the desert and carries them through until morning.

They depart on a single camel, Phryne’s impish grin undeniable as Jack clambers up behind her.

When a mysterious messenger brings word of her husband’s demise, Jack can almost hear the plan forming in Phryne’s head.

“Yalla, Fatima! Yalla!” She yells and the dromedary trundles forward. Jack’s hands curl around Phryne’s middle.

Onward to the next.

This time, he’s holding on for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo - thanks for sticking with this! There will be one more "part" to this saga, but it's a random collection of drabbles that didn't fit into the main piece. There is no plan or schedule for that one so this is goodbye for now. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave kudos and comments - you made my day brighter with every kind word.
> 
> Even bigger thanks to everyone out there doing God's work and writing for this tiny little fandom. I don't leave nearly the amount of comments I should, but I'm consistently bowled over by the talent here.
> 
> Much love to Miri for holding my hand through this and letting me have joint custody of the brain-cell. It’s your turn now, fam.
> 
> Be weird and wild, friends. Thanks for playing. 
> 
> <3, Kris


End file.
